but words are made of iron
by fullmetalgrigori
Summary: "Sticks and stones may break my bones..." Gajevy Week 2015
1. Unison Raid

As the earth around her quakes and burns, all Levy McGarden can do is close her eyes and wonder how it all went wrong.

It was supposed to be a simple job - an easy one - but then again, that's how it plays out in all the stories, isn't it? What seems simple is suddenly very _not_, and the world is flipped around without warning.

A warm, heavily calloused hand wraps around her own, and something rights itself within her. She opens her eyes to see Gajeel standing next to her, a dark scowl on his face, pierced brows drawn together in both anger and determination. Small cuts litter his arm; blood oozes down his cheek from a gash on his temple. He's taken the brunt of the hits for her, because his body is built to withstand the attacks she cannot.

She hates it.

"You alright?" he grunts, gaze still fixed ahead.

"Fine," she says, heart pounding in her throat as she watches the mage in front of them. He's smirking, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, but he doesn't move, electing instead to simply watch as they collect themselves. He's toying with them, so confident is he in his victory. Anger boils in Levy's stomach. "We can't let this keep going, we have to stop him _now_."

Gajeel snorts. "I _know_ that part, shrimp. Whaddaya think I've been doing all this time?"

_Unnecessarily worrying about me_, she thinks, but instead she says, "I have an idea." It's risky, it's probably foolish, but there aren't many options left. "Do you trust me?"

He sends her a sideways glance, then looks back to their opponent. "Kinda question is that?"

His response unsettles her. His fingers tighten around hers.

"Do it," he says. "I trust you."

The words seem to echo in her ears, growing louder and louder until they drown out the deafening rhythm of her own pulse. She grips his hand tightly and reaches out with her magic, asking quietly, _Can I?_

His answer is immediate: _Yes._

Levy's breath is ripped from her lungs as their magics merge, iron and words and metal and language twining together until she can hardly tell one from the other. They are one, thinking and feeling and acting simultaneously. Suddenly, the tide of the battle is drastically turned.

They turn towards each other, their free hands clasping together and extended towards the enemy. Her script pen begins to glow brightly, burning at the touch. Levy can feel something bubbling up within her, something fed by the magic Gajeel is channeling through her. At the same time her own magic is being siphoned away in a powerful cycle that leaves her breathless.

Her pen is vibrating now, aching to release the combined magic bottled within her. Chests expand as they inhale, and together they shout: _Iron Dragon Secret Art: Steel Syntax!_

Words she has never before seen in her life - yet somehow inherently _understands_ \- erupt from the tip of her pen, curling like ribbons around each other. They act under some invisible command, twining together into strong ropes, shooting forward to catch the limbs of their opponent. Holding fast they anchor him, unyielding against his fruitless struggles. He spits curses but Levy's unfamiliar words hold fast, unmoved against such paltry language.

For Draconian is far older than any human tongue.

Levy wants to stop and stare, to marvel at her newest discovery, but the Unison Raid is demanding and drags her along relentlessly. Her wrist flicks sharply and she only half-remembers telling it to do so as the words tighten even further, leaving their opponent helpless against Gajeel's impending strike. He opens his mouth and roars, but instead of iron shards, what leaves his mouth are symbols and letters and runes that twist into a deadly whirlwind that races forward.

When the smoke finally clears away, the enemy mage before them is unconscious, limbs askew as he sprawls across the ground. The air is strangely quiet, punctuated only by the hum of magic in Levy's veins.

They both fall to their knees, their hands sliding apart as the Unison Raid fades into the air. Levy's heart is racing and her ears ring, but that doesn't matter. They're both alive and they've _won_.

Slowly she looks up to find Gajeel already staring at her, eyes wide and chest heaving for breath. They've demanded much of each other and it shows.

They don't say anything, but they don't need to. They have tasted each other's magic, fed each other's spells, and that is more powerful than any of the words she'd sent spiraling through the air. The space between them thrums with things unsaid, and as Levy takes them in, she realizes two very important things:

They will never go back to what they once had been.

She doesn't want them to.


	2. Cooking

have her cake and eat it too

* * *

The last thing Levy needs is a drunken asshole harassing her at the end of her shift, so of course that's exactly what the universe decides to gift her with. Today, of all days.

"Sir, we're closed. I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Her voice is very obviously strained and she is so, _so_ close to the end of her rope, but the drunken asshole is also an oblivious asshole as he waves his empty beer glass towards her once more.

"C'n I get 'nother one?" he slurs. Luckily, an apparent side-effect of his drunken stupor is forgetfulness, and he's firmly caught in the delusion that the empty glass in his hand is not the same one he's been holding since she cut him off two hours before.

"I'm afraid not, sir. We're closed for the night."

He scowls at her, but the effect is ruined by the considerable effort he's making to stay firmly on his barstool. "Don' hafta be so rude. Why're girls so _rude?_ 'm a nice guy, 've always been nice, why do girls always fuck the assholes, s'not fair." He squints his eyes at her and Levy barely resists the urge to squirm. "Bet yer fuckin' an asshole."

Levy bites her lip hard as her fingers twitch, just begging for permission to snatch up the beer tap and spray him in the face. It wouldn't even be the first time she'd done it, but Lily generally frowned on the practice and she really did like her job.

The clatter of plate and forks draws her attention, and her fingers still as a rough voice barks out, "Oi, dickwad, kitchen's closed. Time to scram."

She doesn't watch as the drunken asshole mutters profanities under his breath and stumbles loudly off his stool - she is far too delighted with the plate of chocolate cake sitting in front of her. "You are a _godsend_."

"Don't get too excited," Gajeel grunts. "I need an opinion."

She rolls her eyes and smiles. "Whatever you say. What did you bring me tonight?"

He pushes one fork over to her as he fiddles with the other. "Salted caramel cake. Training a new pastry chef."

"Ah," Levy says wisely. "Teaching her in the ways of baking, are we?"

Gajeel scoffs. "Just try the damn cake."

She heartily obeys, forking out a hefty bite and popping it in her mouth. Warm, fluffy cake mixes with gooey caramel and sharp, tangy sea salt as it melts across her tongue and _wow_. Her eyes widen and she moans, melting against the bar. "Oh my god, this is _fantastic_."

The part of her that isn't marveling about the warm, gooey, sugary perfection in her mouth delights in the slight blush on Gajeel's cheeks. He clears his throat loudly and takes his own bite to cover it up. "Caramel's a little runny."

"Yeah, and that just _ruins_ the whole thing."

He gives her an unamused look.

"Gajeel, I'm kidding. Yeah, the caramel may be a little runny, but your pastry chef has time to learn. It's a damn good first try, admit it."

"Yeah, I know. Kid's good, I'll give her that."

"And with you hovering over her shoulder, I'm sure she'll go on to do great things." She grins at him before taking another bite of the cake.

He scowls and takes another piece for himself as he changes the subject. "You almost ready to go?"

Levy nods. "Just need to wipe down the bar and I'll be done."

"Good. Since it's late I thought we'd just crash at my place."

Levy can't deny the pleased little thrill that runs through her. "What about Juvia?"

"Went home with Cana. Just you and me tonight."

Levy smirks at him and twirls her fork. "Chocolate cake, an empty apartment… why, Gajeel Redfox, are you trying to seduce me?"

He scoffs. "Nah. I just worked a double shift and I think you pulled a triple. Thought we could just crash and sleep until noon or somethin'."

"Sold. Take me, Redfox, I'm yours."

He utterly fails at hiding his pleased little smile and she loves him all the more for it. Standing on her toes, she leans across the bar and kisses him softly, then pulls back to rest her forehead against his. "Happy Valentine's Day, Gajeel."

"See? I toldja, I _knew_ you were fuckin' an asshole! Girls _always_ go fer the assholes..."

"..._why is he still here!?_"

"Gimme a second, Lev, just gotta take out the trash."

"Oh my god, _Gajeel!_"

...

...well, at least she has her cake.


	3. Nursing

change in pressure

* * *

It was just his fucking luck that the girl who was taking his blood pressure was that one that made it skyrocket.

"This is stupid," Gajeel muttered, trying to distract himself from the soft blue curls that were entirely too near his face.

"Oh, stop complaining," Levy said cheerfully, fiddling with the blood pressure cuff wrapped around his bicep. "You've got to admit it's better than sitting behind a desk and taking notes."

Of course it was, but Gajeel had something personal against admitting he was wrong. And Levy always knew when he was lying, so instead he grunted and looked away.

"Mmhmm," she said knowingly. "I thought so."

Gajeel, who was too busy watching his cousin Natsu accidentally crack the glass on his cuff, only snorted in reply.

Levy tugged slightly on the cuff to grab his attention and asked, "This isn't too tight, is it?"

He raised one pierced eyebrow at her. "You're joking, right?"

Her cheeks puffed out and Gajeel had to looked away again. "I was only checking!"

"Don't worry, shorty," he said. "Pint-sized thing like you can't hurt me."

He realized his mistake a split-second too late. She pinched his arm hard in retaliation, drawing a wince and a swallowed yelp from him. He glared at her as she grinned and said, "I wouldn't underestimate me if I were you."

Oh, he knew full well what she was capable of. The vein in his arm throbbed a little faster as she leaned in with the stethoscope. Her fingertips were hot on his arm and he tried very hard not to think too much about it.

"Now she said to put it here…" Her thumb pressed the cold metal against the inside of his elbow while her other hand held the bulb carefully. Her eyes focused intensely on the glass pressure dial, and Gajeel had to stifle the urge to laugh at her seriousness. "And here we go…"

She began squeezing the bulb and the cuff tightened against his arm. The pressure was uncomfortable but not unbearable, so while she watched the dial, he watched her.

She was so small next to him, but he'd learned long ago not to discount her for her size. Levy was quite the force to be reckoned with, and it was better to move than to stand in her way. There was power in the small things - he knew that now.

Or maybe it was just her. She held some kind of power over him, one that caused his heart rate to skyrocket when she was nearby, one that kept his eyes darting towards her no matter where she was in the room. It was both infuriating and intoxicating.

She leaned in closer as the pressure leveled off, bringing with her the scent of lavender and ink. Gajeel's neck went hot and he tried to lean away, but his chair held him firmly in place. His palms started to grow sweaty.

"I think that's… hold on," she murmured, sounding puzzled. "The dial just jumped up. Is your blood pressure getting higher?"

_Well that's just fucking_ swell. Gajeel wiped his hands on his jeans and tried to force his heart rate down. This was getting fucking ridiculous.

"Oh, there it is." She untwisted the notch on the bulb and slowly began to release the pressure. A tingling warmth spread down his arm as the cuff loosened, and as her hand shifted across his skin, he thought only part of it was from the influx of blood.

"And… that one." She undid the cuff and pulled off the stethoscope to write down two numbers. "Huh… your resting blood pressure's a little high. I wonder why that is?"

"Dunno." Gajeel himself didn't want to know, though he had a strong feeling as to why.

Levy didn't seem to dwell on it too much and he let himself relax. "Well, it's your turn to check mine now."

She held out the cuff and the stethoscope, and as he caught sight of the soft, pale skin of her arm, Gajeel thought his blood pressure just might kill him - and he couldn't even bring himself to care all that much.

_Fuck_, he was doomed.


	4. Lipstick

your lipstick stain is a work of art

* * *

The moment she spots him crossing the street towards her building, Levy knows she'll have to kill her best friend. A regrettable thing, really, but necessary.

Because why else would Gajeel Redfox be coming to her studio during a work session unless Lucy had sent him there? Levy is sure as shit that her best friend hadn't explained to him the caveat in her project, and _lord_ is this going to be awkward.

Levy whips out her phone in the few moments she has before he's outside the studio door and quickly sends a text. _I'm going to kill you, just so you know._

Her phone chirps almost immediately. _We'll see. Now go get 'er done ;)_

She stifles an irritated squawk. What does Lucy think she's doing? This isn't going to work the way her friend thinks it will, there is no way on earth, but oh god what is she going to do? Quick, think, think, think-

She twitches violently as the door's buzzer sounds, her phone jumping from her hand to the couch beside her. Her hands flutter uselessly and for a second she debates not letting him in. Will he go away if she never answers?

A loud buzzing fills the studio a second time and it seems that no, he will not. Without thinking Levy dashes to the front of the studio, quickly darting to the side to check her lipstick in the small mirror by the door. Her cheeks flush slightly as she remembers why it's there, but before she can reconsider, she forces herself to take hold of the door handle and slide it open. "Hey," she says, hoping she doesn't sound nearly as panicked as she is.

"Hey."

She steps aside to let him in. His boots thud loudly against the hardwood floors, prompting her to say, "Oh, would you mind taking those off? I'm only renting this studio and I don't want to get scratches on the floor." _Or you could just tell him now and watch him scramble out the door. Would be easier. _

She banishes the pessimistic thought away in favor of one a little more hopeful. "I'm assuming Lucy didn't tell you much about my project?" _Please say she did, please say she did-_

"Nope."

_Damn_.

"Ah. Well."

"What? You gonna stab me in the name of art or somethin'?"

She laughs. "No, nothing like that. But, um…"

"C'mon, just spit it out. Thought you just needed to take my picture."

"That's not quite… here, it's probably easier if I just show you." Then she won't have to tell him and maybe this won't get quite as awkward. Unlikely, but a girl can hope.

Her portfolio is spread out across a nearby table and it's easy to grab a handful of finished pictures. She shuffles them nervously, almost shoving them into his hands before backing away slightly. She doesn't want to watch as he goes through them, but she can't look away.

It doesn't seem to sink in first, and she can see his confusion as he flips over the first few. Understandable, perhaps - her subjects are diverse across all genders and backgrounds and settings. The only thing linking them together is the red lipstick smeared across their mouths.

This is what he seems to notice first, and his gaze darts up to land on her stained lips. She can almost see the lightbulb going off over his head, and to her simultaneous delight and horror, his cheeks flush a faint pink. "So, you, uh…"

Oh god, she's still going to have to explain it. "It's called the Makeout Project. I'm exploring the moment of emotional vulnerability that comes after-"

"-making out with the photographer."

"Uh, yes. Essentially."

"Y'know, Lucy didn't mention that part."

"I figured. So you don't have to stay and do this at all, if you don't want. I don't want you to be uncomfortable." She twists her fingers and prays to whoever's listening that he stays.

He looks down at the photographs in his hand again, his wild black hair falling forward to hide his face. Levy's stomach does backflips as she tries to interpret the way his fingers run across the photo's edges.

"Nah, I'll do it. You need the help, don't you?"

"I mean, I always need subjects but don't feel like you have to just because of that-"

He cuts her off before she can run out of air. "Lev. Calm down. I'll do it."

She can feel her cheeks heating up and tries to hide it by taking the photos from him. "Alright. I was thinking of doing it over by that window, so the skyline's in the background.."

He wanders over while she sets the photos down, fiddling with her camera to delay the inevitable while her body screams at her to hurry up. Her heart pounds a frantic beat against her ribs and for some strange reason all she can think about is how the pictures might end up blurry because her hands are shaking.

She smooths down the skirt of her dress and then slings the camera across one shoulder so it's tucked by her side. Gajeel is already by the bay window she'd pointed to, and there's nothing left to keep her from crossing the room to stand in front of him. "Last chance," she says quietly. "You don't have to."

"Ah, quit sayin' that," he says gruffly, looking down at her. But there's a look in his eye that she'd almost describe as frightened, or wary, or something else that is so, so unlike him. She wonders what that says about him, and them, and her.

The words pour out before she can stop them. "Don't worry. I won't bite."

And then she's leaning forward on her toes and he's bending down until she doesn't know who moved first, but really, it doesn't matter to her. What does matter is that his lips are on hers and they're softer than she'd imagined, soft and warm and just a little bit dry, but that's okay because she's got her lipstick and it smooths out the cracks and guides her lips across his in a way that makes her toes tingle and curl.

He's greedy and he takes everything she gives him, one hand snaking around her waist to pull her close and yet despite that the other brushes her cheek in a gesture that's gentler than she thought him capable of. He holds her like a porcelain doll, but she won't shatter and she's determined to show him that. She presses her lips against his harder, forcing his mouth open so she can flick her tongue inside, and now her photography project is earning its name.

He seems to receive her message loud and clear because he pushes back, his mouth hot and insistent and wanting. She can taste the growl that echoes in his throat, and it sends a jolt down her spine that electrifies her even more. He draws a sigh from her that normally he would be ashamed of, but with her lips working against his the way they are, she can't bring herself to think much about anything besides how hot his hands feel through the fabric of her dress.

Cupping her hands around his jaw, she tilts her head to the side just a little, pressing against him as close as she can as he draws her closer. Their pace begins to slow and their lips press together less frequently, but before he can draw away she nibbles on his bottom lip, gently biting down. He presses one last kiss hard against her mouth and then she's pulling away, barely remembering the camera hanging by her side.

She leaves one hand against his cheek and brings the camera up to snap several shots of his face. What she sees staring back at her has her face burning and ignites something deep within her gut.

He has never once looked so raw.

There is lipstick smeared across his face and it might look amusing if it weren't for the dark, hooded expression in his eyes. He is smoldering powerful, all dangerous and _want_. If she had wondered why he stayed, she isn't anymore.

Her photographs don't lie.

After she has taken her pictures, she lowers the camera slowly, almost afraid to look at him without a lens between them.

"You lied," he says hoarsely, licking his bottom lip.

_Oh._ "Yes. I did."

_Do it again_, his expression tells her, and she does.

Again. And _again_.


	5. Daydreams

coming for to carry me home

* * *

She's had daydreams about situations like this, but Mavis, her imagination hadn't quite done it justice.

Or included the sprained ankle. And the humiliation.

Mavis, the _humiliation_.

Levy gasps as her joint gives another painful twinge, and though she tries to muffle it the best she can, she isn't quite able to hide it all. Her cheeks go red as Gajeel looks down at her and shifts his grip. "You alright?"

"I'm fine." Has her voice always been this squeaky?

He's trying not to smirk. "S'what you get for rushing into things."

"I was not!" And that is a complete and utter lie, something she's about 85% sure Gajeel knows already.

So maybe, _maybe_ she'd been trying to impress him a little. Who can blame her? Her strengths lay in academia, so when Gajeel had offered to help with physical training…

_He goes through the movement slowly, each motion slow and exaggerated in order to show her each sequence. "Don't forget to turn into it, okay? You gotta pivot your foot that way so you don't end up on your ass." _

_Levy nods quickly, eyes darting across his body to try and memorize each position he lands in. "Got it!" _

_He raises an eyebrow and straightens up. "...You sure? I only went over it once, should probably do it again, just so-"_

_She shakes her head, and even though she isn't totally confident in the move, she wants to show him that she is as quick with physical training as she is with her texts. Besides, she's done well thus far into the afternoon, how much harder can this one be? "No, I can do this!"_

_He still looks skeptical. "I don't-"_

"_ACK." _

...Well, maybe she _had_ gone a little overboard.

Which had been either a very wise decision, or a very poor one. Levy still can't decide.

As gingerly as he can, Gajeel adjusts his grip underneath her legs, unintentionally bringing her closer towards his chest. Levy can't help but feel the way his muscles flex and shift as he moves, and it sends an electric thrill down every nerve. She both hates and loves the way her body is on high alert.

It definitely doesn't help that he's sweating underneath the hot summer sun, or that his shirt is entirely too tight across his torso. Why can't she just be focused on her ankle like any normal person? And what is it with him and sleeveless shirts? His bare forearm is bracing her back and her skin practically melts at the contact.

"You know, I really think I'm alright, you don't have to-"

He laughs and she can feel it echo in his chest. "You about collapsed the second you stood up, shorty, you ain't walking anywhere."

She internally cheers and groans. And if her insides could stop their dizzying game of tug-of-war right now, she'll be eternally grateful.

"Why the rush, anyway?" he asks suddenly, and no, she'd rather take the internal struggle over this. "S'not like we were in a rush or anythin'."

"I have to get strong," she tells him, because that is the truth, partially. "I'm small and I need to get stronger. You said so yourself."

He's quiet for such a long time she wonders if he's even heard her. Then: "Said a lotta things. Don't always make 'em true."

She thinks her heart might have skipped a beat, or else his grip has tightened against her thigh. "What does that mean?" She needs to hear him say it.

"Means you're fine the way you are. Don't train 'cos you feel like you have to. Gotta do it for yourself."

She's still processing the first half of what's he said when something occurs to him. "Wait, so you were doing the whole training thing 'cos of me? Were you… were you trying to impress me?"

"No!" Mavis, could she sound any more unbelievable?

He laughs again and why, oh why does it have to sound so pleasant tickling her ribs like that? "Shorty, you already impress me." From the startled expression on his face, he doesn't mean to say it out loud.

...At this rate she's going to spontaneously combust before they ever reach the guild.


	6. Metallicana

the art of first impressions

* * *

When Gajeel asks Levy to join him in the search, she agrees immediately. Because really, how can she not? She wants this tip to be true, wants it almost as badly as he does, but she's also practical and knows not to get her hopes up too high. Though he tries to hide it, she can see the little spark behind his eyes, the one that only appears when he talks of the creature who had raised him, and once more she prays that whoever claimed to have seen a dragon lurking on the south side of the mountain had been telling the truth.

He's uncharacteristically talkative as they journey towards the peak, though for him it means she's not the only one carrying the conversation. When she asks, he tells her of the figure he'd grown up with, the one to show him the magic he so proudly wields, the one who had, for a time, rescued him from a dark childhood. As she listens, she hears the anticipation in his voice and sees the slow-burning anger in his eyes. He wants this, but he doesn't at the same time, and she swears that she will do her best to stay by his side no matter how the day ends.

They decide to split up once they reach the base, each armed with flares in case either finds what they're looking for. He peels off to the left as she stays right, climbing over boulders and pushing her way through briar patches as she looks for anything that might indicate a dragon's presence.

Surprisingly, it is much harder than she had originally thought.

"It's only a mountain," she mutters to herself as she walks. "It can't be _that_ hard to hide a dragon, really."

"You would be surprised what you can conceal from humans." The voice sounds from somewhere to her left, behind a thick copse of trees. Levy is reminded of the time she'd seen the side of a cliff shear off and fall into the ocean - this voice sounds not entirely dissimilar.

Her heart soars in her chest, because who else can this be? She has found his prize; his years of searching and wondering are soon to come to an end. Nevertheless, she keeps a firm grip on her pen as she battles her way through the trees, because there is no complete guarantee of what she might find. It seems silly to her, though, since what she can accomplish with a mere pen seems paltry compared to some things she could face.

But this is Metallicana, she knows it must be. Gajeel has described him well enough, and there isn't much mistaking an iron dragon. He towers above her, gunmetal gray scales shining brightly in the afternoon light as he peers down with glittering black eyes. Taking a deep breath, Levy straightens her shoulders and shakily approaches, her knees wobbling uncertainly despite her excitement. Never before has she met a dragon that wished her no ill will, and it is a hard adjustment for her mind to make.

The two stare at each other for a long moment until Metallicana says, "Tell me, why do you smell so entirely of my brat?"

Well. That wasn't quite the first impression she'd wanted to make.

"I - um - I'm Levy. Gajeel's friend."

There's a chuffing sound and the air above Levy's head stirs wildly. "Is that so?"

"Yes!"

He lets out a sound that could be a hum, except it sounds more like boulders grinding against each other. "And where, might I ask, is the brat?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. We split up to look for you, so I don't know-"

"And just where the _fuck_ have you been?"

"Oh. There he is."

Gajeel storms into the clearing with all the grace of a battering ram, disregarding everything around him as he pins a furious red stare on the dragon in front of her.

"As polite as ever, I see," Metallicana says, and though his face is the hardest thing Levy's ever tried to read, she think she hears amusement in his voice.

"Don't get started on that," Gajeel warns, crossing his arms and planting his feet like he's bracing for battle.

"As you wish." But something about the dragon's tone has the hairs on the back of Levy's neck bristling in warning, and then he says, "Let us talk of your…" He says a word that Levy would be hard pressed to pronounce, much less recognize, and Gajeel turns a violent shade of red.

"She's a _friend_, you old rustbucket, she ain't… _that_."

Oh. _Oh_. Levy's cheeks burn and she doesn't need to know the definition with context like that.

"Really? Then why does she smell so thoroughly of iron?"

Levy almost wants to pipe up and say that she's still here, thank you, but it would put the attention on her and she knows she definitely can't handle the scrutiny. She wonders if it would be possible to just melt into the ground for the remainder of the conversation.

"I told ya, Pops, we're _friends_."

"It is nothing to be ashamed of, finding your…" He says the strange word again and some part of Levy yearns to own it, to understand it and roll it off her tongue the way it is meant to. "No need to deny it." His glittering black eyes flick to Levy and he leans down a little to examine her once more.

Standing her ground before him, her curious eyes search his for that forgotten language she knows he holds. She wonders if she can ask him for it.

"If it eases your fears, brat, I approve of your choice."

"_Pops!_"

Levy doesn't know whether to be pleased or embarrassed and manages to settle for something in between. And as Gajeel and his long-lost father bicker on into the afternoon, she thinks to herself that there could be worse families to be a part of.


	7. Singing

lavender's blue

* * *

The balmy spring air and quiet rasp of pages sliding across each other is a potent soporific, and Gajeel is powerless to resist as his eyelids flutter close. He can hear the pattern of her breaths and - if he concentrates a little more - the strong thud of her pulse. Her pen taps against the lacquered wood of the table in a contrasting beat paired with the slow _whuff_ of books sliding towards her and away. The sounds weave together into a hypnotic song, and the longer he listens the deeper he slips.

He falls asleep to her melody.

* * *

Levy can hear his breathing even out across from her, and she knows without looking up that he's long since succumbed to slumber. She tries to resist, but the temptation is too great - she bookmarks the page and settles her hands across the soft beaten leather of the cover, resting her chin on her fingers as she watches him.

It's amazing to her how soft he looks when sleeping, how his ever-downturned brows smooth out, how his constantly-scowling mouth loses its pucker and snarl. This is the closest thing to vulnerable she's ever seen on him, and she'd be a liar if she said it wasn't appealing.

But she likes the rough parts of him, too - the parts that scratch and itch and refuse to be tamed simply on principle. He is thorns and barbed wire, but she thinks there might be holes in the fences he wraps around himself, and she delights in finding them.

Gajeel Redfox is not nearly as dark and enigmatic as he likes to believe.

He shifts slightly on the bench but doesn't awaken. A involuntary smile tugs at her lips and without warning a long-lost lullaby begins to surface in her mind. As she watches him, the words poke and prod at her, begging to be released. Levy has never been one to deny words and so she obeys, opening her mouth to give them life without a second thought.

_Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,  
__Lavender's green  
__When you are king, dilly dilly,  
__I shall be queen.  
__Who told you so, dilly dilly,  
__Who told you so?  
__'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly,  
__That told me so.  
__Lavender's green, dilly, dilly,  
__Lavender's blue,  
__If you love me, dilly, dilly,  
__I will love you.  
__Let the birds sing, dilly, dilly,  
__And the lambs play;  
__We shall be safe, dilly, dilly,  
__out of harm's way.  
__I love to dance, dilly, dilly,  
__I love to sing;  
__When I am queen, dilly, dilly,  
__You'll be my king.  
__Who told me so, dilly, dilly,  
__Who told me so?  
__I told myself, dilly, dilly,  
__I told me so._

She thinks her cheeks might be red as the last note fades into the air, but she means every word.

* * *

That night, Gajeel dreams of flowers

* * *

He doesn't remember the next morning. She is equal parts relieved and disappointed, but she doesn't know what she would have done had he remembered, so perhaps it's a good thing that he doesn't.

_But_, a small voice whispers in the back of her mind, _would it be so bad if he did?_

_No_, she thinks, and maybe that explains what she does next.

* * *

Someone's humming. _Humming_, of all things.

Who the fuck in this guild _hums?_

Oh. She does, apparently. At this point he really shouldn't be surprised.

He's about to turn back to his drink when a note strikes something in his memory and a rush of words crash over him, leaving him dizzy and more than a little stunned. Had she - were they - _what?_

He tries to be subtle when he sneaks a glance at her, but Gajeel has never once been subtle in his life, and so of course she notices his dumbstruck look. He can't string together the words to ask what he needs to know but the blush on her cheeks answers the question loud and clear, and to his horror he finds his own face heating up.

And then she's not humming, she's smiling, and it feels like someone's drop-kicked him in the chest. He thinks she can tell, because she laughs a little and suddenly he can breathe again, only it's easier than it had been before. Things are different now - even he knows that.

Without using a single word Levy McGarden has changed everything.

… but then again, maybe she's always been able to do that.


	8. AU

what the cat drags in

* * *

When Gajeel hears three quick knocks hit his door in rapid succession, he doesn't even bother to check the peephole. He already knows what he'll find waiting on the other side, and when he swings the door open, the shock of blue hair is unsurprising.

"At this point I'm just impressed," Levy says, holding out the cat in her arms. Her hands are clasped just under Lily's front legs, leaving the rest of him to stretch out and dangle in midair. Lily looks more than a little peeved with the situation, but since this is the third time this week his cat has snuck uninvited into his upstairs neighbor's apartment, Gajeel can't really find any sympathy for him.

"Thanks," he grunts, taking Lily from her. "Sorry 'bout that."

She shrugs. "Ah, I don't really mind it. He's sweet, but he's your cat, not mine." She smiles and Gajeel thinks he might feel a little dizzy. If it weren't embarrassing as all hell for her to keep tromping downstairs with his cat, he might thank the little bastard.

"Dunno how he does it," Gajeel says, to distract himself from the freckle that hovers near the corner of her lip. "I've locked all the windows, and s'not like I got a cat door or anything…"

"Really, Gajeel, it's fine." She fiddles with the corner of her sleeve for a moment, and he wishes that he had something - anything - to bring up, anything to keep her on his doorstep for just a little while longer. But Gajeel has never been very adept with talking to, well, anyone, so she finally says, "So, uh, I've got some work to do, so I'll just…"

"Yeah, um, thanks for bringing him back. Hopefully he won't bother you again."

"Oh, that wouldn't be so terrible," Levy says, and the smile she's wearing now is entirely different than the one before, and to his intense frustration, he can't quite read the intent behind it. "I'll see you later!"

As he shuts the door and turns around, he pins his cat with a steely-eyed glare. "I dunno how you're getting out," he growls, squatting down until he's looking his pet in the eye. "But you _gotta keep doing it_."

* * *

True to his word, Lily continues his disappearing act, and he starts to do it with such regularity that Gajeel can start to predict the times Levy will show up. With every visit she lingers a little longer, asking him questions about his life while she answers about her own. He knows she's a graduate student studying ancient literature, that she works at the library two blocks away, and that she has a weakness for chocolate covered espresso beans. He tells her that he works as a mechanic, that he does metalworking as a hobby, and that Lily had adopted him instead of the other way around.

"Could be why he's always wandering," he explains, pulling out a treat from the bag he keeps by the door. He tosses it to Lily, who pounces and begins gnawing away.

When he looks back at Levy, she's watching his cat with a strange expression. "You're not… are you _training_ him to sneak into my apartment?"

He gives her a baffled look. "What? Why would you say that?"

She stammers a little and her freckles become dusted with pink. "Well, you're rewarding him, aren't you? Giving him a treat after he goes to my apartment?"

Gajeel looks from the treats to his cat, who is now licking his lips and eyeing the bag hopefully. The idea's ridiculous, really, he isn't training Lily to sneak into her apartment, he only gives the cat treats when he's talking to Levy and _oh my god he's training his cat to sneak into her apartment_.

He can't quite hide the horrified look on his face and she laughs, which _isn't fucking helping him get his shit together_. "I - I didn't mean-"

"I can see that," she says. "But, uh…" She looks nervous now, and she's biting her lip and lord take him now he hates his cat for bringing her to his doorstep. "I wouldn't mind if you were, actually. I don't think."

Holy shit. _Holy shit_. He thinks his brain has short-circuited. Because she really had implied what he thinks she's implied, unless this is all some wacked-out dream, in which case he's going to wake up severely pissed.

"Then do you wanna, maybe, come in for a bit?" The door's already standing wide open, but he shifts to the side, feeling about ten kinds of antsy as he does.

"Yeah," she says warmly, stepping inside without a moment's hesitation.

After she passes him, Gajeel squints down at his cat, who looks like he still hasn't given up hope on the bag of Friskies sitting on the side table. "Kinda matchmaker you think you are?" he hisses under his breath.

Lily gives him what looks like a smirk as Levy calls back, "A pretty successful one, I'd imagine."

"...Lily, one of these days I'm not gonna let you back in."

"Mrow."


End file.
